


Time in a Bottle

by VigilantePond



Category: Hobbs & Shaw (2019), Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 19:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20215111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigilantePond/pseuds/VigilantePond
Summary: MI6 agents Ilsa Faust and Hattie Shaw were fated to a tragic love story... until one day Ilsa pursues The White Widow on a mission and finds out that Hattie was alive the whole time, under a new identity.





	Time in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Note that the events of Hobbs & Shaw are changed in the timeline and pushed back to 2012 instead of 2019 to fit Ilsa's timeline to predate her working undercover with Lane. Other plot details are also obviously changed.

2018

PARIS 

_You should’ve come with me_. The last time Ilsa Faust said those exact words, it was not in the stern tone she just said to Ethan Hunt, and the situation was much more dire. Ilsa shook the thoughts out of her head. _That was a different time. Focus on the mission now_, she thought to herself. Ilsa and Ethan were at the Grand Palais in Paris, ready to meet The White Widow with Ethan posing as John Lark. 

The heavy white and gold doors swung open as the security guards welcomed Ilsa and Ethan inside. The room was dimly lit and packed with serious partygoers in expensive suits and dresses with cocktail glasses in their hands. Ilsa could barely move when her eyes landed on the woman standing in the spotlight. Her shoulder length blonde curls parted neatly to one side, and she wore a silky pale pink halter top and matching dress that showed off her toned arms. She looked angelic under the halo of a spotlight, and every word from her mouth enchanted everyone in the room. All eyes were on her, especially Ilsa’s. There was no mistaking her, but it did not make any sense. “Hattie?” she gasped to herself quietly. _No. It couldn’t be. She was dead. _This was beyond uncanny — it was simply not possible. Hattie Shaw was the White Widow? _Her _Hattie?

“Ilsa? You okay?” Ethan muttered. She must have looked white as a sheet. 

She gave him a quick nod of reassurance and they walked opposite directions to survey the area. _Former KGB agent on the left… that man over there was CIA gone rogue… _Ilsa noted in her head. Suddenly, The White Widow locked eyes with her across the room, and Ilsa drew in a breath. 

“Thank you for coming. Enjoy the party,” the woman standing on the stage said. 

_Lips that once were mine._

_Tender eyes that shine. _

_They will light my way tonight. _

_I’ll see you in my dreams. _

The orchestra started playing _I’ll See You In My Dreams, _sending a chill down Ilsa’s spine_. _As the crowd applauded, she whispered something to a burly man beside her, who marched up to Ilsa. 

“Ms. Mitsopolis would like to speak to you in private,” the man whispered in her ear. 

Ilsa agreed to follow him into a private suite, brushing past Ethan’s confused frown. She tugged at the end of her suit in attempt to calm her nerves. She knew these missions were unpredictable, but running into her presumed dead ex-girlfriend was surely was not part of the plan. The White Widow dismissed the man and turned to shut the door, clutching the handles for a lingering moment with her bare back facing Ilsa.

When she was finally ready to turn around, her lips began to quiver. “Ilsa, I’m so sorry,” she breathed.

“Hattie?” Ilsa said. She was stunned; part of her was on edge, waiting for her to pull off a rubber mask, or tell her that she fell into a trap. Yet, the other part of her recognized the familiar warmth from the person that made her feel whole again, like she had found a missing puzzle piece.

The White Widow pulled Ilsa into a tight hug, slipping one arm around her back and the other caressing the nape of her neck. She rested her chin gently on her shoulder, reluctant to let go. Ilsa finally pulled away and cupped the side of her cheek, brushing away a trickling tear from her Hattie’s face. _Okay, definitely not a rubber mask_, she thought. 

“6 years. I don’t understand— you were _dead_. I- I _watched you die_,” Ilsa stuttered. Her eyebrows were knit together in both frustration and bewilderment. She wanted to bathe in the relief and euphoria of knowing that her lover was still alive, and right here standing in front of her. Concurrently, she couldn’t help but feel the tug of anger inside her, like she had been lied to all these years; left to grieve and wallow in pain over nothing — a lie. 

“Do you remember when Eteon tried to recruit me?”

“Of course I do. You refused and then they _shot_ you,” Ilsa replied. 

Hattie nodded grimly, “That’s not the whole story.” 


End file.
